


The Measure of a Man

by The Neon Gang (clgfanfic)



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Old West, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-23
Updated: 2013-02-23
Packaged: 2017-12-03 09:14:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/696679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/The%20Neon%20Gang
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vin has to endure much to save himself and his friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Measure of a Man

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine A Small Circle of Friends #8.
> 
> This is a recycle of the "Furlough" episode of Hawkeye.

**Late morning, on an early June day**

In the corral behind the livery stable six peacekeepers and various townsfolk gathered to watch an expert at work.  Inside the already broken fence, Vin Tanner battled to gentle a feisty buckskin mustang Chris had brought into town the day before, using all the skills taught to him by the People, the Comanche.  It was a sight to behold, the onlookers all agreed, and almost as entertaining as the annual 4th of July picnic.

And, as the crowd continued to enjoy the show the young tracker and the stallion were giving them, four soldiers rode slowly into town, pausing to watch the unfolding spectacle as well.

Almost an hour later, when Vin finally had the buckskin under his control and responding to his gentle touch, the onlookers cheered and clapped, every one of them, except for the four soldiers.

The leader of that small group, a sergeant, was whipcord thin, with sharp, hawk-like features and small, hard grey eyes.  He rode forward, spat into the dust and growled to the man he'd stopped next to, "What is he, some kind 'a half-breed?"

Josiah Sanchez, standing toward the rear of the crowd – being tall enough to see over most of the other onlookers – glanced up at the sergeant, his smoky, gray-blue eyes narrowed.  "Our brother spent some time living among the Indians, but he's a white man, just like you or I," he said in a deep, rumbling voice.

The soldier's eyes narrowed as well, nearly disappearing in his weathered face as he continued to watch Vin.  After a few moments, he shook his head.  "That breed ain't like you an' me, mister.  What was it, Apaches?"

"I believe it was Comanche," Josiah said, feeling his righteous ire begin to unfurl.

"Comanches, huh, figures – they know their way 'round horses, all right, but they're still a bunch 'a filthy, murderin' dogs," he said, then spat again.

Josiah glanced heavenward, silently asking, _Why do you try my patience like this, Lord?  If it's a test, you already know I'm gonna fail…_

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Chris Larabee, leader of the seven regulators who safeguarded the small town of Four Corners, in the Arizona Territory, had seen the four soldiers arrive.  And he'd watched the sergeant's conversation with one of his men, wondering what the Army wanted with Four Corners, or anyone in it.  Given the way the sergeant was eyeing Vin, it probably had something to do with the tracker, or trouble – Vin Tanner seemed to attract trouble, in spades.

Larabee finally sighed and walked over to join the former preacher, asking, "Some trouble here, Josiah?"

"No, no trouble," the big man replied, but his tone was less than generous as he shot the soldier a glower, "the Sergeant and I were just discussing where Vin learned his remarkable skills with horses."

Larabee glanced up at the soldier, suspicious and a little hostile.  He'd seen what soldiers thought about white men who'd lived among the Indians.

The sergeant looked away from Vin, glancing down at Larabee, who was dressed from head to toe in black, and said, "We were sent from Fort Buchanan.  Looks like the Apaches are makin' trouble again – might be Victorio and his boys, but we can't be sure 'til we round 'em up.  They hooked up with some reservation jumpers from the Indian Territory, Kiowa-Apaches mostly.  Major thinks they might be headed for Mexico.  We're here to see to it they don't bother any of you fine people none."  His voice dripped with sarcasm.  "Heard there's some hired guns, or the like, lookin' out for this town?"

Chris nodded, inclining his head toward Josiah.  "You've found two of 'em."

The sergeant grunted and spit into the dust near Larabee's boots.  "Major McNabb wants t' talk to whoever's in charge of the bunch.  We're bivouacked 'bout a mile out from town, along the creek."

"I'll ride out later," Chris said, fighting the urge to shoot the man where he sat, just on general principles.  Something about the soldier rubbed him wrong, and he didn't like the way he was watching Vin – like Tanner was a rabid dog that needed to be shot before he bit somebody.

"Major wants to see ya now," the sergeant said.

"The Major will just have to wait," Larabee growled, turning away and starting back to the corral just as another of the peacekeepers, Buck Wilmington, opened the gate and Vin rode the dancing buckskin out into the street, scattering the onlookers who didn't want to get too close to the still half-wild horse.  Vin was talking to JD Dunne, the youngest of the regulators, who was pointing and gesturing excitedly.

"Hey, mister!" the sergeant called, starting to ride after Larabee, but Josiah stepped in front of his horse, stopping him.

"Tell the Major we won't be long," the former preacher said, then flashed the sergeant a toothy grin.  "We just have to see a man about a horse first."

The soldier looked over to where the man in black was talking to the half-breed and frowned.  "That breed one of you regulators?"

"He is," Josiah said, his voice low and hard, carrying a clear threat of the consequences if the soldier meant Vin any harm.

The sergeant grunted, shook his head and spat again, then reined his horse around and started away only to stop again when Vin let loose with a war cry that rattled the windows before he took off after JD and his fleet gelding, the two young men racing, full out, into the hot noon-day desert.

The atmosphere among the onlookers immediately turned more festive, bets on both men being called out.  Ezra Standish's voice rose among the other, setting odds and defining terms.

Josiah watched, curious, as Buck shimmied up a corner post with a bandanna held between his teeth.

"They're almost to the big mesquite!" Nathan Jackson called down from his vantage point outside his second story clinic.  "JD's in the lead, but not by much!"

"Go, JD!" Buck hollered at the top of his lungs, waving the bandanna wildly from his precarious perch.

The crowd shifted, men rising onto their toes as they watched two riders reach the large mesquite tree and circle tightly around it before racing off toward an old, broken down wagon, Vin edging into the lead as they circled that object as well.  The competitors turned their horses, thundering back toward the livery corral.

Josiah watched the soldiers as they observed the race, a cold chill settling in his gut.  _Lord, whatever's coming, I hope you'll keep a close watch over us, especially Vin_ , he prayed silently, then walked over to join Chris, Buck, and Ezra, asking, "What're they racing for?"

"I have no earthly idea," the gambler replied with a sigh.  "It is too ungodly hot to be out here working, let alone racing but, since we find ourselves here, we might as well make the most of it."  He turned, taking more bets with a flash of his gold tooth when Nathan called out that JD was in the lead again.  When he looked back at the others he added, "After all, there is no reason we shouldn't add to our profits."

"We?" Chris asked Josiah, who just grinned and shook his head.

"Here they come!" Buck whooped, then yelled loudly, "Come on, JD!  Come on, kid!  You can do it!  Come on!"

"They're going for that bandanna?" Josiah asked, nodding at the square piece cloth Buck had hung, suspended by a piece of twine from a post that stuck out from the eaves of the boardwalk, which ended at the livery, at the southern edge of town.

"They are indeed," Ezra said.  "And I strongly suggest we give ground, since I, for one, plan to live long enough to enjoy my winnings when Mr. Tanner triumphs.  The man is a positive miracle worker."

The four regulators moved away, along with many of the spectators as the riders' bore down on their goal, dust flying up behind their straining horses.

At the last possible moment, as they reached the corral, Vin veered off, the buckskin stallion streaking though the enclosure and leaping the far fence, the top rail of which had been broken earlier when the animal had tried to crush Vin against the wood, breaking it in half.

The tracker grabbed the bandanna, shoved it between his teeth and then hauled back on the reins, the buckskin sliding to a stop with a snort, his haunches tucked under him.  Several men in the crowd hooted and hollered while others loudly groaned or cursed.  Several seconds later JD reached the tracker, his horse also sliding to a stop.

"You cheated!" the young sheriff accused, surprised by the maneuver but still marveling at how easily the mustang had leaped over the barrier.

"Cheated?" Vin asked hotly, grabbing the cloth from his mouth.  "Whatcha talkin' 'bout, JD?"

"You took a shorter path!"

"Hell, kid, all y' said was: 'n' back t' the livery.  Y' didn't say _how_ we was supposed t' get here."

Chris and the others all laughed at JD's confounded expression.

"Think he's got you there, JD," Buck said, shaking his head and grinning.

Then Vin grinned and handed Dunne the bandanna.  A cheer went up from the men who had cursed earlier, and the ones who had cheered now groaned.

Ezra glanced around nervously.  "The race has already been won, therefore there is no merit in giving Mr. Dunne the bandanna," he stated loudly for everyone to hear.  " _You_ are the winner, Mr. Tanner."

"Both paths t' the prize had merit," Vin countered the gambler.  "We both won; we just took different paths is all."

"You _both_ won?" Ezra echoed, chuckling softly.  "That, Mr. Tanner, is like saying there are two sides to the truth."

"Well, there is, sometimes," Vin replied with a grin.

"Oh really?" the gambler asked, his hands on his hips, head cocked to one side in challenge.

"Yep – when one's yours and one's mine," the tracker said, wheeling the buckskin away and galloping off down the street, JD following on his heels, laughing.

Some of the crowd pressed in around Ezra, who announced loudly, "The winner was Mr. Tanner!  I will pay those who bet on Mr. Tanner!"

Chris shook his head, watching the gambler work the crowd.  "Guess we better go see what Major McNabb wants," he said to Josiah, then looked up and gestured for Nathan to come down and join them.

The former preacher nodded even as he sighed heavily.

"Major who?" Buck asked his long-time friend, looking curious and confused at the same time.

Chris nodded at the soldiers, now heading slowly out of town.  "Sergeant said the Apaches are on the prowl again.  Army's have set up a camp outside of town to keep 'em off our backs.  Man in charge is a Major McNabb, and he wants to talk to us."

"This I got t' hear," Buck said, his expression sour.

"I admit I'm curious as well," Josiah agreed.  "I haven't heard anything about renegades being on the prowl around here."

Chris turned to the healer when he joined them.  "Nathan, we're riding out to see what the hell the Army wants.  Keep an eye on Vin, will ya?  You know how he can get when there's Indians involved."

The black man nodded and grinned.  "If I can catch him, I'll do that."

Larabee grinned and shook his head, glancing off down the street, the two racers nowhere in sight.  "Yeah, good luck."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

 **A short while later**

The three regulators rode into the Army camp, the majority of the soldiers ignoring them as they went about their assigned tasks, but a few looked up, watching them pass, their expressions hostile to one degree or another.

"Brings back more 'n a few memories, don't it?" Buck asked quietly, glancing around the encampment.

"Yeah," Chris agreed, "most of 'em bad."

"Amen, brother," Josiah agreed.

The big ladies' man nodded as well.

They stopped just short of the largest tent in the camp – two of the canvas walls having been rolled up and tied off, providing both shade and allowing a cooling breeze to flow though the tent – and dismounted.  A young man hurried over and offered to take their horses for them.

"Just stand here and hold 'em, Private," Chris instructed the boy without really looking at him.  "We won't be long."  And with that he ducked and stepped under the canopy without bothering to knock or announce himself.  Buck and Josiah were right behind him.

McNabb looked up from where he sat, reading over the latest duty roster.  He stood, and when the three men reached his desk he extended his hand to Larabee, who he could sense was the leader of the men, saying, "Major Zebulon McNabb.  I've been expecting you, gentlemen."

McNabb was a tall, broad-shouldered man with dark red hair and piercing green eyes.  His uniform was clean and well-tended, his hand soft.  And Larabee took an instant dislike to the man.  The major reminded the gunman of other officers he'd met during the war – men who saw the Army as a means to climbing a social ladder right into Washington D.C. and a safe, profitable, government job.

"Major," Chris replied, taking a step back and hooking his thumbs under his gunbelt.  "Your sergeant said you wanted to talk to us."

McNabb nodded as he sat down.  He gestured to other chairs in the tent.  Buck and Josiah sat; Larabee stayed on his feet.

The officer scowled slightly, but he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desktop, the pads of his fingers pressed together in a somewhat prayer-like gesture, and said, "So, the three of you are the law in Four Corners?"

"There's more of us," Chris said, then waited for the man to get to the reason they'd been asked there.

"More?  How many?"

Chris hesitated for a moment, then replied, "Seven."

"Seven?  Well, the townsfolk are lucky indeed to have so many guns looking out for their welfare."

Chris made no reply, still waiting for the man to get to the point.

"Yes, well," McNabb said, "I can see you're busy men.  We've had reports of renegades in the area – Apaches from over near Ojo Caliente in New Mexico Territory.  They hooked up with some Comanches and others who left the Indian Territory.  The Apaches are probably some of Victorio's men, but we can't be sure.  In any case, we believe they're all getting help from some of the domesticated tribes around here.  We don't know which ones – yet – but we _will_ find out who the sympathizers are, and when we do, they will be appropriately punished.  I'd appreciate it if you'd pass along any information you might have, or overhear, and have your men ready in case we run these savages to ground.  If the locals rise up to defend them, we might conceivably need help protecting your community until more troops arrive from Fort Bowie or Tucson."

"We haven't heard anything," Buck said, then asked, "These renegades killed or hurt anybody?"

"Just a few cattle and sheep so far, but it's only a matter of time.  Now, can I count on your help?"  He glanced at the three men, waiting for someone to respond.

Finally, Josiah nodded, saying, "We'll let you know if we hear anything, but we know the Indians who live around here, rather well, and I find it hard to believe they'd do anything to harm—"

"You'd be amazed at what some of these savages will do, sir.  But I have seen the depravity they can embrace."  McNabb sighed and continued, saying, "Sergeant Evans tells me there's a breed living in town as well."

"He's no half-breed," Chris said, his voice turning low and dangerous.  "He's a white man, just like the rest of us in this tent."

McNabb leaned back.  "I see.  But it is true he spent some time living among the Indians – Comanche, I believe the Sergeant said – is it not?"

"And Kiowa," Buck goaded, leaning back and folding his arms over his chest.

"His loyalty—"

"Isn't something you need to worry about, Major," Larabee interrupted, his tone icy.

"Perhaps.  Perhaps not.  I'm assuming this is the same man who was involved in the Mosley incident?" the major asked them.

"The Reverend Mosley accused an innocent man of kidnapping his daughter," Josiah said, leaning forward, his gaze locked on the officer's.  "He killed his own daughter, and blamed it on Chanu, who was her _husband_."

"Yes, I'm aware of the facts – your Mrs. Travis provides an informative newspaper, even if her editorials are somewhat… naïve, shall we say, when it comes to the Indians.  But I understand that this bre— excuse me, this white man, released the buck from jail when it still appeared that _he_ was the one guilty of kidnapping and rape."

"Rape never entered the conversation," Buck snapped, sitting up again, blue eyes flashing.

"And he didn't _let_ him go.  Chanu damn near killed Vin escaping," Chris snarled, remembering the flash of icy terror that had raced through his guts when he'd seen Vin lying on the floor that night.

"All I'm trying to say, gentlemen, is that there may be a sympathizer in town – someone who's helping these renegades.  And they must be getting help.  They've eluded us and our tracker at every turn.  Perhaps it's someone besides the local tribes.  I'm only trying to determine if this man poses a threat to—"

"We'll keep an ear open," Larabee interrupted him, "and let you know if we hear anything about these renegades of yours, but Vin's no threat to you, or the folks in Four Corners.  Be best if you remembered that, and left him alone."  He turned and left without a backward glance.

Buck and Josiah both shoved to their feet.

"I don't want this Vin fellow helping these renegades," McNabb warned them.  "If I find he has been—"

Buck flashed McNabb a hot glare, then followed on Larabee's heels.  Josiah stopped, his hat in his hands.  He looked down at the major, saying, "Vin's not the one you need to be worrying about, Major."  Then he settled his hat on his head, turned and left.

McNabb watched them go, then sighed and shook his head.  He would find the renegades, and whoever was helping them, regardless of who it might be.  And when he did, he would kill all of them, which, hopefully, would be enough to get him transferred back East, where he belonged.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

 **That evening**

Chris and Vin rode together toward Larabee's shack.  The buckskin stallion, now wearing a halter and lead, tied to the gunman's saddlehorn, followed along after the pair, dancing, his head tossing.

A comfortable silence had fallen between the two men after Larabee had told the tracker about his visit with Major McNabb, Vin turning over the news in his mind.  Finally, Tanner broke the quiet, saying, "Reckon I better go see if they's really renegades on the prowl, or just a few Indians, tryin' t' find family down in Mexico."

"Don't think that's a good idea," Larabee replied.  "The Major gets wind you're anywhere near those Indians, he's going to assume you're helping 'em."

Vin grinned.  "Ah hell, I've been one step ahead 'a blue-bellies most m' life.  They ain't goin' t' see me."

Chris fought back a grin at the cocky assurance in the man's voice.  "All right, if you think you should."

They continued on, silence falling between them again.  When they reached the turn off leading to Chris's shack, Larabee pulled up and asked, "You want to me to come along, watch your back?"

Vin shook his head.  "Best if I go alone.  I'll be back by mornin' after next – at the latest."

The gunslinger nodded.  "Watch your back, pard."

Vin nodded, touched his finger to the brim of his hat, then reined his big black away, the gelding heading off at a comfortable, ground-eating lope.

Chris watched until his friend was out of sight, hoping he would be all right.  But something in the pit of his stomach told him trouble was coming, and when it did, it usually found Vin Tanner.  He shook off the thought and glanced over at the buckskin, saying, "Come on, boy, time to get you home."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

 **The following morning**

Chris rode slowly up to join Josiah on a small ridge just northeast of town.  They had both completed their morning patrols and met up at the familiar landmark to ride back to town together.

"Morning," the preacher greeted as Larabee reached him.

Chris nodded.  "Anything?"

Josiah shook his head.  "No sign of the renegades, and no one's complaining that they've seen them, or lost any stock.  You?"

"Same."

The big preacher started to turn his horse for home, but paused.  He cocked his head to the side and squinted, peering into the distance.  "That what I think it is?" he asked Larabee, nodding.

Chris turned in his saddle, looking off in the same direction as Josiah.  "Shit," he swore softly, fear making his heart beat faster.  "Vin's out here somewhere."

"Then we'd better take a look," Josiah replied.

Larabee nodded.  "Let's ride."

The two men reined their horses and started off at a fast gallop toward the circling carrion birds, neither man voicing the thing they both feared most.

Several minutes later, Chris jerked his gelding to a halt, panic flaring through his chest with his first glance at the body lying sprawled on the ground.  He took a deep breath and dismounted, walking over to stop next to Josiah, who had knelt down on one knee beside the dead man.

For a brief moment the man's hide coat and buckskin trousers had turned the gunslinger's blood to ice, but the dead man's long, black hair assured him Vin was still alive.

"You know him?" Larabee asked the preacher.

Josiah nodded, reaching out to gently squeeze the dead man's shoulder.  "I've spoken to him several times in Ko-Je's camp.  They call him Eagle Child… because of his gentle soul, and the fact that his thoughts were always up in the clouds, soaring with the eagles."  He shook his head.  "He can't be more than eighteen years old."

"Guess we'd better take him back to his people," Chris said with a tired sigh, beginning to check the ground for any signs that might tell him who had killed the young man.  He didn't find anything.  "Maybe it's the renegades," he said, frowning.  "There are a lot of tracks here, almost all of them unshod."

"Or an overzealous soldier," Josiah replied.  "Army's been known to take their horses' shoes off when they're tracking renegades, so the Indians can't tell who's following them."

"Maybe Vin can tell us who was responsible when he gets back," Chris said.

"Even a humming bird leaves a trail in the air, if we have the eyes to see it," the preacher said, "and I do believe Brother Vin could do just that."

Chris snorted softly, but he nodded.  "Some days, watching him work, I'd believe it too."

Josiah grabbed a blanket from his bedroll and the two men bent over and rolled Eagle Child onto his back, both of them jerking away when they saw the boy's open, bloody wounds.  He had been cut up, badly.

"Good Lord," Josiah breathed, "this boy's been tortured."

Chris nodded, his lips disappearing into a thin line of anger and worry.

Without speaking, they rolled Eagle Child into the blanket and draped him over the back of the preacher's horse, tying him down securely.  Then they set off for Ko-Je's camp, both grim-faced and silent.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

 **The following morning**

Vin rode into Four Corners, heading straight for the saloon, but he slowed and tipped his hat when Mary stepped out of the _Clarion_ office, dressed in riding clothes.

Shading her eyes from the bright morning sun with her hand, she smiled up at him and said, "Welcome back."

"Where y' headed?" he asked her.

"I'm going out to talk to Major McNabb, for the paper."  She frowned.  "Mr. Larabee said you were checking on the Army's story about the Indians.  Are there really renegades out there?"

Vin shrugged.  "Some Indians out there, but they ain't renegades, no matter what McNabb tells ya.  All the same, y' be careful."

She looked a little surprised.  "I will.  But are they Apaches?"

"Some of 'em," he replied enigmatically.

"Vin," she said, stepping up alongside the man's horse.  She reached up to rest her hand on his forearm and continued, "After I talk to Major McNabb, I'd like to talk to you about what you've found; what you think is going on here.  I don't want any bloodshed if it can be avoided."

He nodded his agreement.  "Reckon that'll be all right."

"Thank you."  She started off toward the livery and Vin drew up at the Standish Tavern.  Sliding out of his saddle, he paused, watching until Mary was out of sight, then walked inside, finding Chris and the others just finishing their breakfasts.  He caught the flash of relief in the gunslinger's eyes and it warmed him.  Friendships had always been fleeting over the course of his life, most of them stripped away by death or sickness, but these six men had proven to be an exception, and for that he was profoundly grateful.  Larabee, in particular, had filled some missing hole in Vin's heart.  The blond was more than a friend, more than a brother.  Chris was like a piece of his own soul, living in another body, which, he thought, might explain the uncanny way they seemed able to communicate without words.

Walking over to join the others, Vin sat down in the empty chair at the table and reached for what was left of the food.

"Well?" Chris asked him once Vin's plate was full.

Vin looked up, saying, "There's Indians out there, but they ain't renegades.  Mostly 'paches, Jicarilla from the looks of 'em, but they got others with 'em, too –Comanche and a couple 'a Kiowa-'pache, prob'ly married t' Jicarilla women.  And they got women and kids with 'em, too.  Don't think they'll give us any trouble."  He met Larabee's gaze adding, "McNabb's either stupid or lyin'.  They ain't headed t' Mexico, they're headed northeast.  Prob'ly got split up when they's rounded up and sent t' whatever reservations they's on before they ran.  I'd be willin' t' bet they're tryin' t' get t' back t' their lands."

"If that's so, why come here?" Buck asked, looking confused.  "This ain't exactly on the way north from New Mexico Territory."

Vin glanced around the table, wondering how the men would react to what he'd discovered.  "Reckon, they come t' pick up more family livin' 'round here 'fore they turned back north.  Ko-Je's people have been helpin' 'em, so I reckon some of 'em were livin' on the reservation with 'im."

"Are you sure about this?" Josiah asked, then immediately shook his head.  "Sorry, brother, I know you are."

Vin met the older man's eyes and said, "They ain't been botherin' nobody, Josiah.  They don't get crowded, they ain't goin' t' slow down, 'cept maybe t' kill a steer here or there t' keep 'em from starvin' on the trip, and hell, I figg'r they's owed that much for what's been done t' 'em."

"Definitely sounds like the Army ought to know they ain't heading to Mexico by now," Chris said, looking worried and annoyed.  "Especially if they hired themselves a tracker."

Vin nodded.  "Should, but McNabb's got his boys out looking south 'n' southeast.  Either he's purly stupid or he's getting' some bad leads t' follow."

"Well, one thing is sure, these renegades wouldn't have killed one of Ko-Je's boys if they'd found him out alone," Josiah said.  "That just leaves the Army… or someone local."

Vin looked up, surprised.  "One of Ko-Je's people got killed?"

Josiah nodded sadly.

"Where'd it happen?"

"Few miles north of the ridge," Chris said.  "Happened yesterday, early morning from the looks of it."

Vin shook his head.  "Weren't these Indians then.  They slipped south 'n' they've been travelin' north along the western hills fer three days.  And they're makin' 'n effort t' stay away from settlers 'n' the Army.  Who was it?" he asked Josiah.

"Eagle Child," the preacher replied.  "Chris and I found him yesterday and took him back to the reservation.  He'd been cut up badly – looked like someone took their time on him.  I'm going to ride out there later this morning and talk to Ko-Je about what's going on."

"Damn," Vin said, his appetite disappearing.  "Y' tell Ko-Je and Chanu t' be careful.  What I saw and overheard, McNabb's jus' lookin' fer a reason t' kill hisself some Indians, and he ain't particular which ones.  Ko-Je's people get caught helpin' these folks, McNabb'll have his men ride down on 'em jus' out 'a spite.  But y' best wait 'til t'morrow t' go.  They're gonna have t' get Eagle Child ready to meet the spirits t'day."

Josiah nodded, wishing he knew half of what Vin did when it came to various Indian cultures.

Vin looked over at Chris.  "Y' show me where y' found Eagle Child?"

Larabee nodded.  "Planned to, but finish your breakfast," he told the tracker.

Vin flashed him a grin, knowing Chris could be worse than an old mother hen he if got to worrying over someone.  He pushed his sadness aside and dug into the meal, knowing he was going to need it.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

As Mary rode along the creek road, her spine slowly stiffened.  She glanced warily around at the desert landscape.  It felt like someone was watching her, but she couldn't see anyone, and her horse didn't seen at all nervous.  Still, she'd learned to trust her instincts so she stayed in the center of the wagon road, only leaving it to avoid the occasional clumps of trees and brushes the path passed when it wound closer to the creek bank.

And her instincts were good.  In the shadows of several palo verdes, a tall, dark-haired tracker watched her ride past.  He licked his lips as he stared at the swell of her breasts, her long, graceful neck, her shining, blonde hair.  His eyes narrowed as his desire rose and he knew he could take her, if he wanted to.  And he wanted to.

But then the ubiquitous buzz of the cicada disappeared and he heard the sound of another rider approaching along the road at a fast lope.  The tracker stayed where he was, cursing softly to himself as one of McNabb's soldiers appeared.

"Mrs. Travis?" the lieutenant asked the blonde woman as he pulled up in front of her.

"Yes," she replied, her hand reaching for the rifle in its scabbard.

"I'm Lieutenant Fitzhugh, ma'am.  Major McNabb sent me to escort you to the camp.  With renegades on the loose, he didn't want to take any chances.  I'm just sorry you got this far without an escort."

"Very well, Lieutenant," Mary said, relaxing.  She glanced around, wondering if the soldier was what she'd sensed earlier, but somehow she doubted it.

"If you'll just ride along with me, ma'am."

The dark-haired tracker watched the woman and the soldier continue on toward the encampment together and sighed, frustrated.  Turning, he stalked back to where his own woman waited with two horses.  He grabbed his reins from her and swung up into his saddle.

"I'm goin' to the Army camp.  You come, but no talk to nobody, y' hear, woman?" he snapped at her.

Northwind nodded, her gaze averted.  She could hear the two horses moving down the road, and wondered who it had been, and why La Croix was so angry.

"I catch y' talkin' t' anyone," he snarled, "I'll cut out your tongue."  He turned his horse and headed off at a lope, already wondering who the blonde was and what she was going to see McNabb about.

Northwind watched her husband leave, then shouldered her heavy pack and took the pack horse's reins and started walking, trailing behind him as quickly as she could.  It would not be wise to be late with the mood La Croix was in.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

 **A short while later**

The dark-haired tracker rode into the Army camp, glancing around.  He saw the blonde woman's horse tied in front of Major McNabb's tent and frowned, wondering again who she was.  She didn't look like a necessary woman, which was part of what had attracted him to her, but he could be wrong.  What other kind of woman would be coming out here?

But he had other things to attend to in the camp, and he knew it was time to get on with them.  He dismounted and walked over to the mess tent, getting himself a cup of coffee and listening to the soldiers talk.  Eventually, his woman caught up, walking into the encampment, her head down.  Northwind went straight to his horse and stood there, waiting like a faithful dog for him to return and tell her what to do next.  He smiled and chuckled softly to himself.  Yes, she was his faithful bitch.

He stood and walked out to join her, snarling softly, "Remember, no look, no talk."

Northwind nodded, her head down, gaze on the ground, just like he expected.

The tracker left her there and went to search out Sergeant Evans, who, after they had spoken, told him McNabb was busy, talking to Mrs. Travis, who ran the _Clarion_ , a newspaper in Four Corners.  The tracker laughed and shook his head – a woman who worked her own newspaper?  She must be loose, living like a man.

Several minutes later he saw the blonde step out of the major's tent.  She saw Northwind and stopped, speaking to the Indian woman, but Northwind looked away and refused to reply to her.  The tracker smiled.  He had trained his squaw well, and he couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to train the blonde.  A much tougher fight, he was sure, but it would be well worth it in the end, he was sure.

Northwind met his eyes briefly and he saw the blonde glance his way as well.  He met her eyes and smiled hungrily.  She looked away, her cheeks flushed rosy.

He licked his lips as he watched Mrs. Travis mount her horse and leave.  He would make sure he saw the blonde woman again.

The sergeant called him over before he could follow her then, holding the major's tent flap open for him and telling him to hurry, the major was a busy man.

The tracker cursed softly and walked over, entering as he'd been bid.

"La Croix, what the hell are you doing here?  I paid you a ransom in gold to find those damned savages, not prowl around my camp.  We haven't found anything where you said to look, not a damned thing.  Why aren't you out there, looking for them?"

"I'll find them, Major," the tracker said, reaching out to help himself to a half-sandwich setting on a white china plate on the officer's desk.  The scent of the blonde woman lingered in the air and he knew the food was something she had declined.  "Thought I'd found 'em, but it was just some reservation buck, out lookin' for game."

"What did you do?" McNabb asked, suddenly suspicious of the look in the tracker's eyes.

"Just asked him a few questions, Major, that's all.  He ain't gonna be a problem."

"I don't need any outbreaks of hostility among the domesticated tribes interfering with this campaign, La Croix.  Unless, of course, you find that they're helping these renegades, in which case we'll see to it they don't ever help any of these murdering beasts again, domesticated or no.  I plan to round these filthy savages up as quickly as possible and get back to the Fort.  I do _not_ plan to spend a single day more of my career in this godforsaken desert than necessary."

"Ah, yes, well, you'll be doin' these settlers a service, Major," the tracker said with a grin, "killing these renegades.  Have you seen what the Apaches and their friends can do to a body?" he asked, knowing the officer had not.  "It is not the dyin' that hurts, Major, it's the gettin' to be dead.  Oh, yeah, there's the real agony."

"Yes, well, we have more than enough men here to deal with these savages.  _If_ you can find them.  So, I suggest you get back out there and do what you've been paid to do, La Croix."

"And I will, Major, but I need more money, to buy information from some of the local tribes.  And when I do, I'll also know who's been helpin' them renegades give us the slip."

McNabb stared up at the tracker, wondering if the man was lying or not.  Not that it mattered, as long as he found some heathens for him to kill.  Still, something about the tracker bothered McNabb.  But until he could find someone to take La Croix's place, he was stuck doing business with the man.  He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a small leather pouch.  Opening it, he took out a few silver coins.

LaCroix held out his hand, but McNabb let the coins fall onto the desktop instead of into the man's open palm.  "I'll expect some positive results within the week."  He looked up at La Croix, holding his gaze.  "Or I will find myself another tracker.  One with better skills.  There's a breed in town, maybe _he_ can find these savages, if you cannot."

La Croix reached out and swept the coins off the desk and into his hand.  "I'll find 'em, Major, don't you worry about that."  He walked to the tent flap and paused.  "Goin' t' try to the west.  You have your boys ready to ride, if I find something."  He shoved the flap aside and stepped back out into the heat and sun.  He snapped his fingers and Northwind came over to join him, leading his horse.

The tracker mounted, then leaned over and grabbed the woman by the hair, saying, "Go make camp, along the creek where we stopped.  Understand?"

She nodded.

He gave her a shove and rode out without looking back.

Northwind watched him go, her eyes flashing angrily.  She glanced back at the white officer's tent, then sighed softly and set out to do as she'd been told.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

 **That same day**

Vin knelt, carefully studying the ground in front of him.  Then he rose, walked a few feet away and squatted down again, repeating the same process he'd been using for nearly an hour.  He reached out, touching the desert sand, brushing aside grains and peering at the ground.  Finally, he stood again and glanced out at the landscape.  He waited for a moment, turning things over in his mind, and then gave a small nod, satisfied he'd come to the right conclusions.

He walked back to where Chris had been patiently waiting for him, watching Tanner at work and marveling to himself.

"Tracks tell two stories," Vin said.  "A few of the renegades, four, maybe five, met with some of Ko-Je's people here.  Ko-Je's warriors prob'ly gave 'em food 'n' other supplies.  That was two, maybe three days ago.  Found Eagle Child's tracks, too.  He wasn't with 'em fer the exchange.  He was out, trailing game.  He met one man; not an Indian, who'd been waiting here for a spell.  Willin' t' wager it's that tracker them Army boys hired t' find the reservation jumpers.  Tracker might 'a thought he'd found one 'a 'em and cut Eagle Child up some t' find out where the rest were hidin'… but he had t' know when he killed Eagle Child he weren't no renegade."  The man's blue eyes turned stormy.  "I c'n find 'im."

Larabee shook his head.  "Not sure we want to get caught between the Army and these renegades, Vin.  I know you said they're only interested in going home, but if they've drawn Ko-Je's people into helping them, and we get involved, well, things might get… complicated all around."

"Eagle Child's family deserves t' have the man who killed him, take their vengeance so the boy c'n move on t' the spirit world with an unburdened heart," Vin argued.

"If that tracker's workin' for the Army, and McNabb finds out Ko-Je's people killed him…"

Vin nodded and sighed, frustrated.  "If the tracker knows, and he ain't already told McNabb, then he'll probably try 'n' trade that knowledge for whatever he can get out 'a Ko-Je… might be why the Army's lookin' in the wrong direction, too.  He might be gettin' paid by the Indians t' pass along the wrong direction t' McNabb.  Till the jumpers 'n' the Army's both gone, best t' tell the folks at the Seminole Village, and Ko-Je's people, t' stick close t' home from now on."

Chris nodded.

"Just a shame Eagle Child had t' cross paths with this tracker.  He was a good kid," Vin said, walking back to his horse and rolling into his saddle.  "When this is over, 'm goin' t' find the man."

Chris looked over at Vin, remembering what Eagle Child had looked like and said, "When this is over, I'll go with ya."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

 **Later, back in Four Corners**

Riding into town, Chris and Vin found Mary and Mrs. Trace climbing into a wagon, the bed loaded with a few baskets that were filled with food stuffs and other supplies.

Larabee frowned and stopped, saying, "Mary, Mrs. Trace," as he lifted a finger to the brim of his hat.  "You taking a trip?" he asked the newspaper woman.

Mary climbed into the wagon seat and took up the reins.  "Mrs. Winthrop's too ill to make it into town.  We promised to deliver some supplies."

"Mary, there are renegades and trigger-happy soldiers out there," Chris said.  "It'd be foolish to go out to the Winthrop place alone right now."

"I'm not alone," Mary said, glancing at Laura Ann, who smiled back at her, warmed by Mary's confidence in her.

Chris wasn't sure what to say to that.  He glanced at Vin, but the tracker's amused expression offered no help.  He looked back at the two women and sighed.  "At least take a gun with you, just in case."

Mary looked skeptical, but Mrs. Trace reached down and lifted a shotgun, resting in across her lap.  "Of course, Mr. Larabee," she said to the gunman.  "We wouldn't think of going without it."

Chris smiled slightly, then touched his finger to the brim of his hat again, saying, "All right, ladies; be careful."

"We're always careful, Mr. Larabee," Mary promised him before slapping the reins across the horse's rump and heading of.

Larabee looked back at the tracker, who was grinning like an idiot.  "What the hell's wrong with you?" he demanded testily.

Vin shook his head, saying, "Not a damned thing."

The man in black huffed and continued on to the saloon where he dismounted and started inside, ignoring the chuckling man who followed him.  But he paused at the batwing doors and turned.  "Ah hell," he said and sighed heavily.  He walked back and climbed into his saddle again.

Vin, who hadn't bothered to dismount, grinned and followed the gunslinger as he rode out of town.  They were going to drop in on Mrs. Winthrop, it appeared.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

 **On the way to the Winthrop farm**

Mary and Laura Ann rode along in silence for a time before the blonde turned to the school teacher and asked, "Laura, how long were you married?"

Mrs. Trace glanced away, saying, "Five years."

Mary nodded.  "It was only a little longer for me.  You don't talk about him, your husband, I mean…  Did you love him?"

Laura Ann thought for a moment before she replied.  "I thought so, at first.  He was much older than I – an old friend of my father's – and somewhat… possessive."

Mary glanced at the young woman, wishing Laura Ann was more forthcoming about her past.  She could sense the woman was hiding something, but she wasn't sure what it was, and she didn't want to pry, even if she was curious.  Laura Ann was a wonderful school teacher and she'd become a good friend since she'd arrived, but Mary could sense the woman needed to tell someone the truth about what had really brought her to Four Corners.  But she couldn't force her to talk about it if Laura Ann didn't want to.

"How's the school coming along?" she asked instead.

"Very well, thank you.  Josiah's been a great help.  He even put up a blackboard at the back of the church for me to use."

They continued along, talking about the school, their children and their hopes for the small but growing community of Four Corners.  The dark-haired tracker, when he appeared, startled them both.

"You, yellow hair," he snapped, pointing at Mary, "come here, or die where you sit."

Mary glanced at Laura Ann, who started to lift the shotgun to her shoulder.

"Don't prove yourself a fool, woman," the tracker snarled at her, drawing his Colt before Mrs. Trace could fit the gun snugly to her shoulder.

He guided his horse closer to the wagon.  "Now, yellow hair," he snapped at Mary.  " _Come here_."

Mary stood and started to climb down, saying softly, "Go back to town.  Get Chris."

"Mary," Laura Ann whispered, "you can't."

"Go back to town, please," Mary begged, afraid the man might just shoot Laura Ann if she didn't cooperate.

The school teacher scooted over and picked up the reins, but she couldn't force herself to leave.  She watched Mary walk over to the tracker, who offered her his hand.  Mary took the proffered hand and allowed the stranger to pull her up behind him on his horse.

"Mary!" Mrs. Trace called, angry and scared.

"It'll be all right.  Go back to town," she said as the tracker wheeled his horse away and kicked it into a gallop.  Mary grabbed onto the edge of the cantle and hung on, her heart beating frantically in her chest.

Laura Ann watched for a moment, then cursed under her breath and turned the wagon for home.  A moment later Chris and Vin streaked by her on their horses.  "Thank God," she breathed, pulling up the horse, determined to wait in case someone ended up hurt and needed to be taken back to town in the wagon, and praying all the while that wouldn't be necessary.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Their horses hooves thundering, necks stretched out as they ran, Chris and Vin urged more speed from both animals as they raced over the desert, finally coming up on either side of the fleeing tracker and Mary.

La Croix had heard them coming and gigged his own gelding to a run, but burdened with two riders, the older mustang wasn't able to outdistance his pursuers.

Coming up alongside the dark-haired tracker, Chris reached out and grabbed Mary around the waist, lifting her off the man's horse and carefully setting her down once he got his own mount stopped.

"Are you all right?" he demanded.

She nodded, trying to catch her breath.  "Go!"

He hesitated a moment, then his gelding lurched and he was chasing after Vin and the stranger.  Mary watched him go, one hand pressed to her chest, the other lifted to shade her eyes as she tried to see what was happening in the distance.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Vin stayed with the dark-haired tracker, his big black gelding easily matching the man's tiring paint.  And, when he saw an opportunity, Tanner launched himself from his saddle, tackling the tracker around the shoulders and forcing him to the ground where they landed roughly.

Both men rolled to their feet, the dark-haired tracker coming up with a knife in his hand.  He slashed at Tanner, who jumped back and dropped into a crouch, ready to fight.

La Croix lunged, slicing at Vin, who stepped deftly to the side and lashed out with a swift punch to the man's kidney, almost sending the dark-haired man to his knees.  But the tracker grunted and spun, slashing at Tanner, catching the sleeve of his hide coat, but not drawing blood.

Vin grabbed the man's arm, trying to break his hold on the weapon, but La Croix twisted away.

The pair circled one another, clashing violently, and then pulling back again.  Vin finally saw an opening.  He dropped his shoulder, feigned an attack and charged in another direction, catching the off-guard tracker in the midsection, flipping the man up and over his shoulder.

La Croix landed with a _thud_ and didn't move.

Approaching the fallen man cautiously, Vin finally leaned in and turned the tracker over.  The knife was embedded in the man's chest, and his eyes were rounded with surprise, but they were no longer seeing.

Chris edged his black closer, his Colt in his hand and pointed at La Croix.  "He dead?" he asked Vin.

Tanner nodded, panting to catch his breath in the hot, dry air.  A movement in the bushes nearby caught Vin's attention and he caught sight of Northwind disappearing.  He sighed heavily.  "Tracker had an Indian woman with him," he said, then cursed softly.

"Probably his wife," Mary said from the seat of the wagon as she and Laura Ann rolled up and stopped beside the two men.  "I saw them together at the Army encampment."

"Come on," Chris said, turning his horse.  "Let's get you back to town.  I'll send Josiah and Buck out to deliver those supplies to Mrs. Winthrop."

"That won't be necessary," Mary said, glancing at Laura Ann, who nodded.  "Mrs. Trace and I will be able to finish the trip now."

"Mary—"

"I'm fine," she said.  "Really."

"All, right," Larabee said with a resigned sigh.

He and Vin watched Mary climb back into the wagon and the two women started off, Mrs. Trace carrying the shotgun across her lap again.  This time it was cocked and ready to fire.

"Them two got grit," Vin said, watching them go.

"Foolish if you ask me," Chris muttered, but he felt the same way.  "Let's take this one back to the Army, see if they had him on the payroll."

Vin shook his head.  "First we take him to Ko-Je.  Eagle Child's family deserve t' see his killer's dead, then we can take 'im t' the Army camp.  'sides, I want t' know if he was gettin' paid t' keep his mouth shut 'bout Ko-Je helpin' the jumpers."

Larabee nodded his agreement.  "All right."

Vin looked down at the man and frowned.  The tracker was wearing a mix of clothing, but the woman he'd caught sight of was dressed like the Jicarilla he'd seen on the run.  But why would someone traveling with the renegades also be working for the Army?  Unless it was to ensure the Army didn't find the renegades.  But if that was the case, why had the tracker killed Eagle Child?  The questions continued to haunt Vin as they wrapped La Croix up, tied him onto the back of Tanner's gelding, and started for Ko-Je's camp.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

 **That afternoon**

The two regulators rode into the Army encampment, immediately drawing the attention of the men they passed.  The thin sergeant from town broke away from a group of soldiers and walked over, eyeing the bundle tied behind Vin's saddle.

"That one of them renegades?" he asked, then spat, his gaze locked on Vin's.

"No," Chris said, dismounting and cutting La Croix's body loose.  It rolled off the back of the gelding and landed on the ground, the blanket falling open to reveal the tracker's face.

The sergeant stared down at the dead man, the muscles in his jaw twitching furiously.  "Shit.  Renegades get him?"

"No.  Caught him trying to have his way with Mrs. Travis," Chris growled, adding, "He got what he deserved."

"You killed him?" the soldier asked, eyes narrowing as he looked at the gunslinger.

"Fell on his own knife…" Vin said.  "While he was fightin' with me."

The soldier's gaze shifted.  That made more sense.  He'd heard Larabee was good with a gun, but the breed, it figured he'd use a knife.  "Fell on it, huh?" he snarled and spat again.

"That's the truth of it," Larabee snapped at the man.  "I saw it happen myself."

"Major hired La Croix to find those renegades," the sergeant said, then spat and looked up at Tanner.  "You gonna take his place?" he asked Vin.

"Reckon not."

The man's beady eyes almost disappeared when they narrowed.  "You want them savages t' start killin' folks hereabouts?"

"Them people are on their way home," Vin snarled.  "Y' leave 'em be they won't bother nobody."

The sergeant shook his head.  "Heard it all before."

"You'd do well to listen this time," Chris said as he mounted.

The two peacekeepers turned and rode out of the camp, leaving La Croix where he'd fallen.

When they were on their way back to Four Corners, Larabee sighed, saying, "So, he _was_ working for the Army."

"More like he was workin' for hisself," Vin replied.  "His woman's dressed like the renegades.  She's one of 'em.  Bet he got hisself paid by McNabb so he could keep the Army off their backs.  But he was workin' for hisself when it came to Ko-Je's people."

"Nothing but a damned thief."

Vin nodded.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

 **That night**

The sergeant opened the flap to the major's tent and stepped inside, saying, "Excuse me, sir, but La Croix's squaw is here to see you."

McNabb looked up, surprised.  "What?"

The sergeant shrugged.  "I can send her away, but I thought La Croix might've told her something 'bout the renegades.  Says she won't talk to nobody but you."

McNabb set his pen back in its well and sighed.  "Very well.  This is… intriguing, if nothing else.  Send her in.  I want to hear what she has to say."

The sergeant nodded and left.  A few moments later Northwind ducked inside and walked to McNabb's desk, stopping and looking down at the ground.

McNabb's gaze swept over her.  She was passably easy to look at but she did not rouse his passions, being, in his mind, nothing but a dirty savage, and a heathen to boot.  "So, Northwind, isn't it?  What have you come to see me about?"

"Justice," she said in thickly accented English, still looking at the ground.  "I want justice for my husband."

"I cannot give you that," McNabb said.  "He laid hands on a white woman.  He deserved the quick death he was given."

She frowned, her lips pressed into a tight line.  She had seen the woman, the one with the golden hair who had spoken to her here, in the soldier's camp.  She knew what La Croix had intended to do to the woman, but it did not matter.  She was without a husband.  "You provided for my husband, you should provide for me, and my children."

Major McNabb stood and walked around his desk.  He stopped, leaning back against it and crossed his arms over his chest.  "You husband provided a service, Northwind.  What can you give me?" he asked her.

She lifted her chin, meeting his eyes briefly.  "You will not help me," she stated, seeing the truth in his green eyes.

"No, I will not," he replied.  "Not unless it is to my benefit – anything to get out of this godforsaken wasteland.  That, I'm afraid, is the way of the real world."

She looked up again, this time meeting his gaze and holding it, her expression defiant.  "Your real world and mine are _not_ the same."

"No, they are not," McNabb said, adding, "thank God.  Go, Northwind, find yourself another husband among your own kind; there is nothing here for you."

She dipped her head again, turned and left without another word, or a look back.  She knew who was to blame, and she would have her revenge.

McNabb watched her go, frowning.  La Croix had been a useful annoyance until this last time, when all of his skills seemed to have evaporated like spilled water in this infernal heat.  He frowned.  Perhaps the renegades weren't getting help from the breed in Four Corners after all.  Or maybe La Croix and the breed were working together.  A falling out between them could explain how La Croix had ended up dead.

The major walked back around his desk and sat down, thinking.  Northwind was an Apache woman, he could tell that much from her dress.

McNabb cursed softly.  Had La Croix been lying to him the entire time?  The renegades weren't headed for Mexico, they were headed back to where they'd come from – north.  "Sergeant!"

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~* ~ * ~ *

 

**The next morning**

Josiah rode up to where Ko-Je stood, lifting his pipe to the spirits, wishing Eagle Child a swift journey into their spirit world.  He dismounted and walked over to join the old chief.  He stood in silence until he felt the time was right, and then said, "It is a good morning, Ko-Je, and a fine day.  Eagle Child will have an easy journey to the Spirit Land."

Ko-Je nodded.  "Yes, Eagle Child will have an easy journey… and once there he will chase spirit deer and live without hardships alongside his ancestors."  The old man looked to Josiah, adding, "But that is not your belief."

Josiah grinned.  "Ko-Je, it is my belief that my Heaven and your Spirit World are neighbors, with no fences between them.  And that there are many paths to each."

The old man smiled and nodded his approval.  "The tracker, La Croix, was he the one who killed Eagle Child?"

"Vin thinks so, yes."

The old man nodded.  "Then he is the one.  I did not see them when they came yesterday, with the man's body."  Ko-Je sighed sadly.  "Tell Vin that the tracker had a wife, a Jicarilla."

"Like the renegades?" Josiah asked, frowning.

Ko-Je nodded.  "She is sister to one of the chiefs."

Josiah cocked his head to the side and studied the old man.  "Why do I think there's more to this than you're telling me?"

"It is there for you to see, if you have the eyes," the old chief replied.

"Ko-Je, if there's something about these renegades we need to know, you should tell me."

He shrugged.  "Many tribes have been scattered by the white men – the Army, ranchers, settlers…"

"And?"

He shrugged again.

Josiah sighed, a little frustrated, but his attention shifted when he saw smoke rising from along the creek that snaked through the landscape in the distance.  "Wet wood," he mumbled.  "Who would be that stupid?"

"A white man?" Ko-Je offered with a small smile.

Josiah grinned and chuckled.  "More 'n likely."

"They come here, they build, but they learn nothing… and they die."

"Well, maybe this one will run into a good Samaritan."

"I have heard of that tribe," Ko-Je stated, nodding.  "They were a good people."

"Yes, they were," Josiah said with an amused grin.  Then he frowned, still watching the rising smoke.  "Something so obvious, it's either a sign of peace, or a trick."

Ko-Je nodded, his expression unreadable, and Josiah knew there was something more going on, something he needed to understand.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**That same morning**

Vin, making his way back to Four Corners from his turn on dawn patrol, spotted the smoke as soon as it began to rise into the morning air.  He frowned, wondering who would be so stupid, but there were many possible answers – new settlers who didn't know about the threat of the renegades, travelers passing though, prospectors, bandits, outlaws, hell, damn near anyone who didn't know any better than to signal where they were, which was most folks he'd run into since coming to Four Corners.

With a sigh he decided he'd better find out who it was for sure, and pass along a little wisdom.  He reined his black gelding and gigged him to a lope, covering the ground swiftly.

When he neared the camp, he slowed, moving silently, gaze continuously sweeping the landscape as he looked for any signs of an ambush.  Nothing looked wrong, smelled wrong or sounded wrong, but it _felt_ wrong to the tracker.

He dismounted, tied the black gelding to a mesquite and moved slowly, carefully, toward the campsite.

Beyond the brush and trees he could see an old mule and a man, whose back was turned to him.  Vin stood for a moment and watched the man, dressed in homespuns and a baggy rag coat.  He was squatting, watching a coffee pot that was sitting too close to the flames of the smoking fire.

As Vin continued to watch, the man reached out for the pot, grabbing the hot handle.  He immediately jerked his hand away with a hiss, then sucked his fingers into his mouth.

Vin grinned.  _Greenhorn_ , he thought, stepping out and saying, "Easy, friend, I see you—"

The next thing he knew, Vin was surrounded by several young Apache men, each of then holding a weapon on him.

 _Ah hell_ , he thought, huffing and shaking his head.  _I walked int' that like a damned greenhorn m'self.  Gettin' soft, livin' in town._

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

 **Two hours later**

When they reached the Apache camp, Vin was roughly escorted to a blanket that had been spread in the center of the camp.  His hat was taken away, leaving him unprotected under the already blazing sun.  He dropped down, sitting cross-legged and waited, looking totally relaxed and untroubled despite the worry that gnawed at his thoughts.  Five of the young men stayed with him, making sure he didn't try to leave.

Several minutes later, a small group of warriors approached him, led by an older, silver-hared man.  Vin studied the man as he drew closer, wondering if he'd seen him before.  He looked familiar, but Vin had no clear memory of ever having met him.  He was Apache, or perhaps Kiowa-Apache, so there was a chance he'd crossed paths with him while he was riding with the Comanche.

Vin stood, but stayed on the blanket and waited for them to reach him.

The older man stepped up to the edge of the blanket, but not onto it.  He spoke in Kiowa-Apache, a language Vin didn't really understand, although he'd heard it often enough to recognize it.  He just shook his head and shrugged.

The old man tried again.

"I catch a little 'a what y're sayin'," Vin replied in English, recognizing many of the Apache words from his days living among the Jicarilla while he'd been hunting buffalo.

"Do you know the language of the Comanche?" the old man asked him in that tongue.

Vin gave a single nod and answered in the same tongue, "I do.  And Kiowa.  I am known as Long Eyes by the People."

The old man nodded.  "A good and well known name.  I am Bloody Knife, a name that strikes fear in the hearts of the Comanche and makes the Kiowa go pale with fear."

Vin met the old man's eyes, saying, "But I was born pale, so it has no effect on me."

The old man held Vin's gaze, both of them smiling ever so slightly, then he nodded and his expression turned serious as he said, "By your hand you have killed the husband of Northwind."  He gestured and a woman stepped out from behind several others, two small children holding tight to her skirts.  "The tracker, Jean-Luc La Croix, was her husband, a Jicarilla by marriage and our customs."

Vin met the women's gaze, recognizing her as the one he'd seen when La Croix had been killed.  He looked back at Bloody Knife, saying, "Her husband was breaking the law."

"What law?  White man law?" one of the young Comanche men in the group demanded.  "Our law calls for a life for a life, blood for blood!  If you were of the People you would know this!"

Bloody Knife held up his hand, silencing the young man.  "You killed her husband.  Take Northwind to wife and be her husband.  You would be welcomed among us, Long Eyes."

"Bloody Knife, will y' hear some honest words from 'n honest man?" Vin asked the old man in English.

The Jicarilla nodded.

Vin shifted back to Comanche, saying, "I was Christian born and Indian raised, and I could pick a woman of my own kind for my wife.  But if I chose an Indian wife, she would be Kiowa and no other."

"You are a brave and honest man," Bloody Knife replied, his eyes narrowed, "both of which may cost you your life."

"Then it's a price worth payin'," Vin replied, again in English.

The old man sighed sadly.  "You will be tortured before you die."

Vin nodded his understanding.

"I have heard the stories.  You are a brave warrior, Long Eyes," the old chief said, hoping to change Vin's mind, "and you will be tortured as a warrior, which means your torment will be more than the common mans'."

Vin nodded again.  "It'll be as you say, Bloody Knife, and I accept it, but I'll ask y' t' grant me a furlough.  I give y' m' word I'll come back t' face yer warriors."

When someone translated his words from English to Apache, the young men raised their voices, arguing that Vin should not be allowed to leave, that he would run away like a frightened dog, but Bloody Knife raised his hand again, silencing them all.  "And will you give me your word on this, Long Eyes?"

"Yes," Vin said with a nod.

"Why do you wish this furlough?" the old chief asked him.

"T' make peace with m' friends, but most important t' me, t' make peace with m' dearest friend – a man who is more 'n a brother t' me."

Bloody Knife nodded.  "Very well, but you must return before the sun sits on the mountains, or we will kill five of the whites."  He looked closely at Vin and then asked, "And what will these friends say when they learn that you will be tortured?"

Vin thought for a moment, then said in Comanche, "What they say will not be as important as what they will do."

"And what will they do?"

"For every hair on my head they will kill an Apache."

Bloody Knife nodded solemnly.  "So it will be.  You admit you killed Northwind's husband.  And you refuse to take her as your wife."

"Both are true," Vin agreed in Comanche.  "But know this, Bloody Knife, La Croix took a white woman against her will, and he would have lain with her against her will.  He deserved to die."

"Liar!" Northwind screamed at him.

Vin met her eyes and, and she looked away.  He added in English, "La Croix also killed Eagle Child, one 'a Walking Bear's warriors.  I know Walking Bear 'n' his people have been helpin' ya."  He glanced around, recognizing some of the faces he saw there as men and women he'd met or seen in Ko-Je's camp over the past year.

Northwind glared at him, but she said nothing.

Bloody Knife turned to her, asking in Apache, "Is this true?"

She glared at Vin, then nodded sharply.

"Why?" Bloody Knife demanded from her.

"I do not know," she said.  "He did not tell me."

The old chief scowled, but he looked back to Vin, who realized why the old man had looked familiar.  "Go, but return as I have told you."

Vin nodded, saying, "I'll be back."  He grabbed his hat back from one of the warriors, and headed for his horse.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

 **Later that day, back in Four Corners**

Vin rode hard back to Four Corners, heading straight for the Standish Tavern.  Walking in, he glanced around, seeing several of the men he sought were already there.  He crossed to where Ezra sat, playing poker with several of the locals.

"Need t' talk with y', Ez."

The gambler looked up, his expression slightly annoyed.  "I'm very sorry, Mr. Tanner, but—"

"It's 'bout m' life, 'n' maybe m' death," Vin said softly, holding the man's gaze.  "Would mean somethin' t' me if y' come."

Ezra blinked, seeing the sincerity in the tracker's blue eyes.  He swallowed hard, becoming worried, and looked back at the other players, saying, "I fold.  If you'll excuse me, gentlemen?" as he scooped up his winning and hurried after Vin, who was already talking to Buck and Chris, both of whom looked equally worried.

Within a few minutes all seven regulators sat around a large table in the rear of the saloon, listening as Vin explained what had happened and what he had agreed to do.

"Well, hell, son, it's easy enough," Buck said, smiling nervously.  "Y' just don't go back."

"Got t' go back, Bucklin," Vin replied.  "Gave Bloody Knife m' word."

"This is… madness," Ezra said, shaking his head.  He was honestly worried about the tracker and that both surprised and scared him.  When had he let himself actually become friends with these men?  "Torture?" he argued.  "It's barbaric.  And it's completely uncivilized to expect a man to hand over his life for the likes of a worthless animal like La Croix."

Vin met the gambler's eyes, his small smile saying thank you louder than words ever could, but he replied quietly, "Civilization never made a man out 'a human bein', Ezra.  M' word's all I got, so 'm goin' back."  He glanced around the table.  "I asked fer the furlough fer two reasons," he told them.  "First was t' ask y' not t' take no revenge if I git m'self killed t'morrow."

"Can't do it," Chris said, shaking his head, his expression closed down to a cold, stony glower.  He was pushed back away from the table, sitting with his arms folded over his chest.

Vin met the man's penetrating glare and growled, "It's m' own damned life, Larabee, c'n spend it however I see fit.  I don't want no more 'a them people gettin' hurt.  They're just trying t' survive 'n' keep the life they've known fer generations.  Some of 'em are _my_ people."

"And the second reason?" Josiah asked the tracker before Vin and Chris ended up in an argument.

"T' make some plans," Vin said, then grinned slyly at the group.  "Hell, told 'em I'd come back.  Didn't tell 'em I'd come back t' die."

The others chuckled, except Larabee, who glowered at Tanner, sure the man was going to get himself killed and determined to save him from himself, one way or another.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

 **Some time later**

Chris walked out of the saloon with Vin.  They headed down the boardwalk to the livery, the trip passing in silence.  Once there, they both paused, leaning against the corral fence and staring out at the desert.  Heat rose from the arid ground, creating shimmering waves in the distance.

"You really think you're goin' to walk away from this?" Chris asked him softly.

"Hope to.  Ain't sayin' it'll be easy, but 'm goin' t' try.  Northwind knows more 'n she's sayin'.  We get her t' tell Bloody Knife the truth, he won't let 'em kill me."

"You killed her husband, Vin.  What makes you think she'll come around?"

The tracker shrugged.  "Man who'll play all sides ain't much 'a man.  'm bettin' she knows that.  If Ko-Je confronts her, she'll talk."

Chris shook his head, still not liking the tracker's plan.  "Don't know if I can just wait while you try to get yourself killed."

"What 'm askin' 's hard, Chris, I know that," Vin said, reaching out to rest a hand on Larabee's shoulder, "jus'—"

"Damn it, Vin, you can get _killed_ , and for what?"

"Fer honor, and fer some people who jus' want t' be left alone t' live their lives in peace, on their land, in their way.  It ain't much t' ask.  Hell, Cowboy, any one 'a us c'n get himself killed any day, fer no damned good reason.  This means somethin' t' me.  Help me get these people out 'a here safe.  And help me keep Ko-Je's people from endin' up dead fer helpin' 'em.  Please, Chris."

Larabee sighed.  "Just don't want to collect that bounty any time soon, you hear me?"

Vin smiled.  "That shack 'a yers could use a new roof, y' know."

Chris leveled a sharp, green glare on the man.  "Ain't a shack."

"Sure as hell looks like one t' me."

Larabee shook his head and sighed heavily.  "You better get out of here before I save Bloody Knife the trouble of killing you," he growled, but he reached out, clasping the tracker's forearm tightly.  "Watch your back, pard," he added, his voice rough.

"Y' do the same, Cowboy," Vin replied, then rolled onto his gelding.  "Just keep the rest of 'em away from the camp t'morrow.  It'll be over by nightfall, one way or the other."

"I'll do what I can."

Vin nodded and headed out of town.

Chris watched him go, then sighed heavily and turned around, heading back to the saloon.  They had a lot to do and not much time to get it done in if they were going to pull this off.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~*

 

 **That evening**

Vin rode back into the renegade camp, meeting the eyes of the men and women who came out of their lean-tos to watch him pass.  There were a few hostile stares, but for the most part he saw respect in their eyes.

Before he reached the center of the encampment war cries erupted and he was surrounded by the warriors, pulled off his horse and forced over to the same blanket he'd been confined to earlier that day.

Bloody Knife pushed though the younger men and met Vin's gaze, nodding.  "Your word is good, Long Eyes."

Vin nodded once.

"I give you a chance to live.  Take Northwind as a wife.  You can still take a Kiowa wife later, if you desire.  You have proven you are a man of honor."

"Cain't do it," he replied in English.  "She lies."

Several of the women gasped and some of the warriors cried out for Tanner's blood when the words were translated.  Bloody Knife's eyes narrowed.  "Why do you say this?" he demanded.  It was an extreme insult.

Vin shifted to Comanche.  "Bloody Knife, I believe she knew what her husband was up to here, and it was more than just protecting you and your band on their trip home.  I believe she knows why La Croix killed Eagle Child, and, if I survive, I will ask her to tell me that truth before you take my life."

Northwind paled slightly, but she kept her head up, her gaze locked on Vin's, her eyes defiant.  She had thought he was nothing more than a white man, and now she wondered if she hadn't made a terrible mistake.

Bloody Knife pointed to the blanket and Vin sat.  He knew he would be there all night, and that was just fine.  It would give him a chance to think about what he would face the next day, and the friends he might not see again.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**The next morning**

Vin watched the camp slowly come awake.  And, as soon as the sun rose above the horizon and the morning meal had been eaten, Bloody Knife and the other warriors assembled across the camp from where he sat.  They talked for a short time, and then they headed over to join him.

Bloody Knife looked down at the tracker and nodded.  "We will begin."

"Wait!" someone called.  "Others are coming!"

"He told the Army where we were!" one of the warriors cried in Comanche.

"No, I did not," Vin snapped.

Northwind's oldest son, a young man in his late teens, grabbed his knife, but the old chief reached out, stilling his hand before he could strike at Vin.  "Who comes?" he called to the scout, watching from the top of a jagged hill.

"It is Walking Bear, and several white men."

"Army?" Bloody Knife asked the lookout.

"No."

"Ko-Je comes, with white men," Bloody Knife told Vin in Comanche.

Vin made no reply, but it was clear to the old chief that Long Eyes had not expected this, and he was worried.  And well he should be.  Whoever had come, their fates would be now be determined by how well Long Eyes handled the trials to come.  Knowing the lives of these others hung in the balance would put an additional burden on the young man.

Several minutes later Ko-Jo, and the rest of the Seven, minus Chris, rode into the encampment.  Vin sucked in a sharp breath and cursed softly under his breath.

Ko-Je swung down first and walked over to meet Bloody Knife, the two men exchanging words that became heated several times, both men raising their voices and gesturing angrily.

Bloody Knife finally nodded, and then turned back to Vin, saying in Comanche, "We will continue.  But know this, Long Eyes, the lives of these men rest upon your shoulders."

Vin heard Ko-Je translate that for the others.  The peacekeepers all looked surprised, but confident in him.  He sighed softly.  Sometimes, he decided, they had too much faith in him.

Vin turned to Bloody Knife, asking, "Will y' let me talk t' m' friends?  There's a reason they came, and I need t' know what it is.  Y' do as well."

The old man nodded.

Vin hurried over to the five men, asking them in a soft rasp, "Why th' hell 're y' here?"

"The Army's on the way," Buck said quietly.  "They started lookin' in the right direction yesterday evenin'.  I crossed paths with a scout when I was out on patrol this mornin'.  They'll probably find this place before nightfall."

"Damn," Vin hissed.  "But why're y' _here?_ "

"We thought, if the Army showed up, maybe we could keep these folks from gettin' killed if we were here," JD said, glancing nervously around the encampment.

Vin closed his eyes for a moment, then looked at them and growled, "That's only goin' t' work if these people don't kill y' first."

"We just wanted to help, Vin," Josiah said, glancing nervously at Ko-Je, who stared impassively at the old Jicarilla chief.

"I know y' are," Vin said, "but these folks ain't like Ko-Je's people, or the folks at the Seminole Village."  He paused, looking first to Ko-Je, who ignored him, then looked to the others and asked, "Where's Chris?"

"Has a plan of his own," Nathan replied.

"We will be safe here, won't we?" Ezra asked the tracker.  "After all, we _are_ here to help these… people."

"Ain't that easy, Ez," Vin told him.  "I want y' t' listen t' me, and hear me good.  Whatever happens, don't say nothin' and don't do nothin'.  Promise me, give me yer word, all 'a ya."  When they had all agreed, he added, "Stay where they put y' 'n' keep quiet 'n' we might get out 'a this alive," before he turned and walked back to Bloody Knife.  "These men had nothing to do with La Croix's death," he said in Comanche.  "But they bring important news.  The Army is getting close.  They came here because they are my friends, and very foolish, believing that they can protect you and your people if the Army finds you."

Bloody Knife considered the man's words and then nodded.  "If what you say is true, and I believe your words, Long Eyes, then they are worthy friends, and honorable men, but nothing has changed for you, only the reasons for it.  We must honor our ways, or we will lose them.  If you fail, your friends will die at your side."

Tanner sighed softly and nodded.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

"What did they just say?" Josiah asked Ko-Je, worried by the concern he saw in the tracker's expressive blue eyes.  "And what did you say to Bloody Knife earlier?"

The old chief met Josiah's troubled, stormy gaze and said sadly, "I never thought to see this day, my friends, but my brother does not believe me."

"Your brother?" Buck snapped at the old chief.

Ko-Je nodded.  "As for what they said, Vin will be tortured in our place.  And, if he fails, we will all die."

"What?" JD squeaked.  "But I thought they were gonna do this because he killed that woman's husband?"

"Things change," Ko-Je sighed as he and the others were led over to two blankets that had been spread out on the ground and told to sit.  They did, wondering what would happen next.

After a few minutes, Josiah leaned over and asked softly, "Ko-Je, can you tell me what's happening here?  Maybe if we understand it, we can find a way to stop this before somebody gets killed."

The old man sighed again and said, "It cannot be stopped, my friend.  But I will tell you this – I told my brother that Northwind's husband came to me and demanded we give him silver, or he would tell the Army of the help we gave my brother, and we would be killed by the man called McNabb.  I told my brother I knew La Croix was also taking silver from the Army as well.  One of my warriors saw this happen.  My brother did not believe me."

"But why did he get so mad?" the preacher asked, remembering Bloody Knife's furious expression from earlier.

Ko-Je turned, meeting the preacher's eyes and said, "The woman, Northwind, is our sister.  I have dishonored her by saying her husband lied to all of us, since she did not tell us of his deception, as she should have.  I am very disappointed in her.  La Croix has killed her spirit, but my brother refuses to see this is true."

Josiah sighed softly.  They were in trouble.  "What're they doing to Vin?" he asked the old chief as the women stripped the tracker of his clothing.

"He will be tortured," Ko-Je said sadly.  "It is a test, in four turns, sometimes five."

"A test?" JD asked, looking over at the old man, confused and worried.

Ko-Je simply nodded.

"If this test is not conducted swiftly, the Army might just arrive and put an end to it by killing us all," Ezra said hotly.

Ko-Je leaned forward and turned so he could see the gambler.  "That may be so, but it is too late to stop it now."

The regulators watched in silence as Vin, who appeared completely unconcerned about his sudden public nakedness, was led over to an old tree, long dead when the spring that had once fed it dried up.

Nathan's eyes narrowed slightly as his trained gaze took in the various scars on the tracker's body.  "Vin's seen some rough times," he said softly, shaking his head.

"They are about to get much worse," Ko-Je replied.

A rope was tossed over the largest of the weathered limbs and Vin was deftly tied and then pulled up so he was suspended several feet off the ground.  The women, each of them carrying switches, formed a circle around the tracker and began to beat him as they hollered and keened.

"What kind of test is that?" Buck hissed softly.

"A test of strength," Ko-Je said, watching the man's torment impassively.  "Listen well, my friends.  Vin spoke the truth.  You must not interfere.  If you do, then we will all be killed, your friend included.  You understand?  You must allow Vin to face these tests alone.  Ask the spirits, or your God, to make him strong, because he carries all of our lives on his shoulders."

Buck shot Josiah a hot look, but the older man shook his head.  "We wait," he said.

"Damn it," Buck snarled.

The peacekeepers continued to watch as Vin jerked and twisted under the almost constant rain of blows.  At first he pulled his knees up, trying to protect his genitals, but as time passed, he couldn't keep them tucked against his chest and, after he started to shake, he finally had to lower his legs and endure whatever blows fell.

The women continued to circle around him, scourging him as they went.

"How long's this gonna go on?" Nathan asked the old chief several minutes later.  Vin was sweating profusely, his sodden hair plastered to his face, every inch of his skin crisscrossed with red welts.

"Until they are finished," Ko-Je replied.

"He ain't goin' t' be able t' take much more," Nathan said softly, watching Vin's chest heaving as he sucked in huge gulps of air.  But he refused to give voice to the agony he was enduring.

Ko-Je had no reply.

Each of the regulators continued to watch until they could no longer stand to see Vin's suffering and had to look away.  Ko-Je, however, watched every blow fall and, across the camp, Bloody Knife did the same.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Vin wasn't sure how long they'd beaten him; he had stopped feeling the pain somewhere along the way, finding that place in his mind where it could no longer reach him, a place he had discovered a very long time ago.  He focused on staying in that place, and enduring, without letting the women see his pain.  He could tell his body was suffering, but he felt none of it, resting in his place of silence, his place of balance.

Some time later he heard one of the women shout and the rest of them turned and walked a short distance away, talking among themselves for a few moments.

Then the woman who had shouted nodded to Bloody Knife.

The chief waved to the two men standing next to the tree and they cut Vin down.

Tanner fell heavily into the dust, the sudden impact jarring him from his sanctuary.  He forced himself to stand straight, his shoulders back, his head up even as his arms and legs trembled and sweat poured down his face and chest.  His entire body felt like it was on fire, but he ignored the searing pain and waited.

Several minutes passed and then the women all began to keen, shaking their switches at him before they threw them aside and walked away to join the warriors who had been watching.

Vin sighed softly, his shoulders sagging just slightly.  It was over – for the moment.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

"I take it he passed this barbaric trial?" Ezra asked, looking away from the red welts that covered the tracker's body.

Ko-Je grunted and nodded.

They watched as several of the younger men stepped up and surrounded Vin.  One grabbed the rope that still bound Vin's hands while another rolled onto his horse.  The rope was handed up to the man on horseback and he started off.

"What're they doing now?" JD asked the chief, watching Vin as he jogged alongside the man and horse.

"Endurance," Ko-Je stated as the young man on horseback picked up the pace.

Over the next hour they watched Vin struggle to keep up with the small paint mustang as it moved through the desert.  He jogged, he ran and, after falling a few times, he was dragged.

The last time he fell, Vin eventually stopped the horse and rider by looping the rope around a rocky outcrop and yanking the horse to a stop, which prompted a series of war cries from the warriors watching.

"Can he do that?" JD asked worriedly.

Ko-Je nodded.

The horse stopped, Vin jerked the rider off and the regulators could see him yelling at the Indian, although they were too far away for Ko-Je to hear what was being said and translate it for them.

Then, suddenly, the two men were racing on foot across the desert.

"Come on, Vin," Buck encouraged softly.  "You can do it, stud."

Vin and the man reached the camp, running side by side, the tracker matching the warrior stride for stride.  And, when they stopped, Tanner stood straight, breathing hard, but refusing to gasp in the air his lungs craved.  Beside him, the young Apache did the same, begrudging respect in his eyes.

Nathan started to stand, wanting to check the bleeding wounds Tanner had picked up out in the desert, but Ko-Je reached out and grabbed his arm, shaking his head.

The healer settled back, but his eyes flashed angrily.

Bloody Knife stared at Vin for a long moment, and then nodded.  A cry went up from the warriors and one of them stepped forward.  The rope that bound Vin's hands was cut loose, falling into the dirt.  Then the tracker was handed the knife, which he accepted, glancing warily around to see who his opponent would be.

A sturdy man in his early twenties stepped out from among the others to face him.

"They gonna fight now?" Nathan asked Ko-Je, his brow furrowing with worry.

The old chief nodded.  "A test of cunning."

"They gonna give him some water?" the healer asked.  "He needs water.  Or some clothes?"

But Ko-Je had no reply.

Buck shook his head, the others muttering to themselves.

"Want t' take any bets on this one?" Buck asked Ezra, but it was no criticism of the gambler.

"Of course," Ezra replied, trying to sound lighthearted.  "I have complete faith in Mr. Tanner's skills."

"The real question is whether Vin does," Ko-Je said.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Vin checked the weight of the knife in his hand, his gaze scanning the assembled warriors for who he would be facing.  When the muscular young man stepped out, he felt his heart begin to beat faster.

Could he defeat the man?  His legs were weak and trembling, his arms sore and sluggish.  But he knew he had no choice.  Defeat meant death, his and his friends, and that was something he could not allow.  He knew he couldn't rely on his body this time; he would have to outsmart the man to defeat him.

Vin and the young man circled each other a few times, sizing each other up.  Watching closely, Vin could see the man was strong, but not as fast as Vin had expected.  The warrior would try to overpower him with his strength, which meant he had to bide his time, staying swifter until an opening came.

Vin allowed his mind to drift into the hunter he knew lived in his soul.  It was that part of him that could track and kill a man without hesitation.  It was that part of him that was patient and sure.  It was also relentless and merciless.

When the hunter arrived, Vin allowed himself to relax and watch, knowing he would find the opening he needed to defeat his foe.

The killing dance was familiar and, in some odd way, comforting.  And, when he and his opponent moved as one, each lunging in, swinging their knives at one another, and then backing out again, Vin breathed in the heady thrill of it.  The process was repeated, again and again, blood being drawn on both sides.

Vin knew his body was slowly failing, but the hunter was stronger than his flesh and it pressed on, baiting the man, and slowly luring him in for the kill.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

After several long minutes it was clear to those watching that both men were tiring, but Vin in particular seemed to be struggling.

"Come on, Vin," Buck encouraged softly.  "Take 'im."

And then, as if he'd heard Buck's words, Vin erupted with a burst of speed, his foot lashing out, kicking the Apache's knife out of his hand.

"Look at that!" JD yelped excitedly.  "I've never seen nothing like _that!_ "

"Indian fightin'," Buck said, watching the unfolding battle, his eyes narrowed with concern.  Vin had been holding his own, but he was obviously tired and hurting.  Wilmington could see the bruises that were developing on the tracker's ribs and back.  And he was bleeding from several cuts he'd picked up out in the desert, not to mention those carved into his skin by the knife-wielding warrior.  The Apache warrior only had to wear him down and then overpower him.  "Come on, Vin," he said softly.  "Quit stallin' and take him while y' still can."

Then, seeing what he thought was an opening, the young warrior took it, dumping Vin onto the ground and coming down on top of him.  But the tracker had known what the man was planning, and had let him do it.  Now, Tanner swung his legs up, wrapping them around the man's neck and flipping him off his chest.

Vin rolled with the man, in a fluid motion, coming up with his knife still in his hand.  He pressed it against the young man's neck, his lips curled off his teeth in a feral snarl.  "I c'n take yer life," the hunter growled at the warrior, but his gaze darted to Bloody Knife, who expression gave away nothing, "but I won't."  Vin stepped off the man, still holding his knife, just in case.  "Y' fought well, brother."

"As did you," the man replied in Comanche.

But Bloody Knife held up his hand, putting an end to the fight.

Ezra released the breath he'd been holding, saying, "It appears our Mr. Tanner's skills extend beyond those with horses… and are even more amazing than I had once imagined."

"Ain't that the truth," Buck said, sighing with relief.

"But he's payin' for it," Nathan said softly.  Before he could ask Ko-Je what was coming next, Vin was hauled over to the same dead tree where his ordeal had begun.  A broken limb had been tied to the trunk to create a cross-shape that the tracker was lashed to, his arms held securely out at his sides.

The young men gathered in a group, whooping and screaming, working themselves into a kind of frenzy.

"Ko-Je?" Josiah asked, frowning.

"The hardest test," the old man said.  "Courage."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Vin allowed them to tie him to the old tree, still trying to catch his breath.  His tongue felt thick and his mouth was dry, making it hard for him to swallow.  He welcomed the ropes, which took some of the burden from his tired, aching muscles.  He was thirsty, but knew there would be no respite until the trials were over.

He watched as the warriors worked themselves into a fury and knew he had to stay calm if he was going to survive.  A task easier said than done.  It would help that he was starting to feel lightheaded, or that his body was failing him – both the result of the thirst and the heat, he knew.

After several minutes passed, one of the warriors stepped out with a knife in his hand.  "You are lower than a woman," he jeered and Bloody Knife translated the man's words into Comanche for Vin.  The tracker could see Ko-Je doing the same for the other peacekeepers.

The warrior hurled his knife at Vin and it sunk into the trunk of the dead tree with a dull _thunk_ , several inches from the tracker's face.

"Nothing is lower than snake," Vin jeered back in Comanche, Bloody Knife translating again.  " _You_ are a snake.  _You_ are at the bottom."

The man glowered at Vin, who could feel his heart racing as he panted for breath, but the warrior stepped aside for the next man.  Vin drew in a deep breath through his nostrils and held it a moment before letting it out again.  The muscles in his legs and abdomen twitched uncontrollably and he hoped it didn't show.  Any sign of weakness and he would be dead, the others right along with him.  And he could _not_ allow them to die.  He had to stay strong a little while longer.  Digging down deep inside himself, into that part that had helped him survive every horror he had ever faced, Vin pulled up the strength he needed to continue.

"Show me how a white man trembles!" the next warrior snarled in Comanche.

The tracker's eyes narrowed and his lips curled off his teeth.  "I do not tremble for mosquitoes or vermin, why should I tremble for you?" Vin asked him in the same tongue.

The man cried out his rage and hurled his knife, which landed only a couple of inches from Vin's ribs.

Then, before Vin had a chance to really register just how close the second knife had come, one of the Apache warriors charged him.  The young man screamed his war cry and raised his knife up over his head as if he planned to plunge it into Vin's chest when he reached him but, at the last moment, it sank into the wood just above the tracker's shoulder.  Tanner had held the man's gaze the entire time, refusing to blink or look away.

The man held his gaze for a moment longer, then turned and walked away.  Vin allowed himself a soft sigh and swallowed hard.

One of the warriors began to laugh and he handed his knife to an old man, gesturing toward Vin.

Tanner swallowed hard again, worry creeping into his eyes for the first time.  It looked like the old man was blind, or damned close to it.  His hands were also gnarled and trembling.

"Take your time, grandfather," Vin called in Comanche.  The warriors laughed when Bloody Knife translated.

The old man nodded and carefully lined up his throw several times before he actually took it.  The blade sunk into the tree trunk, an inch below Vin's genitals.

"Oh shit," Buck wheezed, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment.

"Yeah," JD gasped, fighting the urge to cup himself protectively.

"You have my respect, Grandfather," Vin called to the man in Comanche, grateful his voice didn't shake or break like he'd expected to.  "Even half-blind you are better than these younger dogs by far."

When Bloody Knife translated the words the Apache warriors exploded.  Knifes and arrows thudded into the tree, a few nicking Vin's skin but, through it all, the tracker's expression remained steadfastly calm and unconcerned, as if he were waiting for them to acknowledge he was even there.

"Bloody Knife, more come!" the scout called, putting an end to the test.

"Who?" the chief asked, his brow furrowing with worry.

"Two men, and a woman.  One of the men is carrying a peace flag, the other is a soldier."

Bloody Knife nodded and the three new arrivals were allowed to enter the camp and dismount.

Vin cursed softly under his breath, wondering what in the world Larabee thought he was doing.  He was going to have some words with the man – if any of them escaped with their lives.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Mary's eyes widened when she saw Vin, standing naked and bloody, but being cut loose from where he'd been tied to an old tree.  She quickly looked away, feeling her cheeks turn pink.

"Why have you come, woman?" Bloody Knife asked her in English.

Mary swallowed and said, "I have come to ask you to spare Mr. Tanner's life.  He is a good and honorable man.  He killed the man called La Croix because La Croix had forced me to go with him.  I have no doubt what he planned for me, but I was spared that horror, thanks to Mr. Tanner's actions."

Bloody Knife called for his sister and Northwind joined him.  "You heard her?"

Northwind nodded, but she said nothing.

"I am very sorry you lost your husband," Mary said, reaching out to touch Northwind's shoulder.  "I lost my husband as well.  He was killed by men who wanted to silence the truth he was speaking about them.  If you allow Vin to be killed, you will be guilty of doing the same to him.  He has told you the truth about what your husband has done."

Northwind looked up, meeting Mary's frightened blue eyes, holding her gaze for a long, silent moment, then nodded, tears welling up in her eyes.  She turned away from Mary as they began to fall, ashamed of the weakness she had shown in front of a white woman.

Bloody Knife frowned and glanced over at Ko-Je before he addressed Chris, who standing next to Mary, holding Sergeant Evans, whose hands were tied behind his back.

"The Sergeant here has something to tell you," Larabee said, adding, "if you'll listen."

Bloody Knife glanced briefly at his sister, but nodded.

Chris gave the sergeant a jerk and Evans said, "La Croix was getting' paid by the Major to track y' down.  But I knew 'bout his wife being with ya.  I told him I'd help him turn the Major to the locals if he paid me, and he did."

"Tell 'em about Eagle Child," Larabee snarled softly.

The sergeant sighed, flashing the gunman an angry glare before he added, "The kid came across me and La Croix out in the desert.  La Croix told me to leave, so I did.  I heard the boy… screamin' while La Croix cut him up."

Bloody Knife looked down at the ground, muttering in Apache.  When he looked up again, he said loudly, "Long Eyes will not be killed," and then repeated it in Kiowa-Apache and Comanche.

"No!  He deserves to die!  He is a white man.  They steal our homes, kill us!" one of the warriors yelled.  He stepped out and hurled his knife at Vin, who caught the blade by the handle.  A moment later a fight was on, everyone scrambling back out of the way.

It was a short, vicious battle, Vin quickly ending up straddling the man, his knife pressed against his throat as he snarled, "Want t' show me how 'n Apache trembles?"

The warrior looked up at Vin, real fear in his eyes.  He hadn't understood the man's words, but he understood the emotions flashing in the blue eyes.

Vin saw the man's fear and felt the hunter's anger dissolve.  He took a deep breath and stepped off the young man.  He tossed the knife down and walked over to where his clothes lay in a pile, putting them back on.  When he was dressed again, he walked back to Bloody Knife.

"So, where do we stand?" he asked the old chief in Comanche.

"I have learned much today, perhaps too much," the old man said, his tone sad and defeated.  "You have earned your freedom, Long Eyes."

"And m' friends?" Vin asked him.

"Tell me why I should spare their lives and I will do so, to honor a brave and honest man," Bloody Knife replied, holding the tracker's gaze.

With that, Ko-Je stood and the others followed his lead.  The old chief walked over to stand with Chris, Mary and the sergeant.

"What's happening?" Chris whispered to Ko-Je, who explained that Vin had proven himself worthy and would not be killed, nor would they, if Vin could provide a reason Bloody Knife accepted for them to be spared.

Chris's gaze flashed to Vin, and he caught the man's eyes.  The casual assurance he'd come to reply on was there in the blue depths and he sighed softly with relief.  Vin would get them home, alive.

For his part, Vin took a deep breath and chose his words carefully.  He spoke them in Comanche, Ko-Je translating them into English, Bloody Knife into Apache.  "Mrs. Travis only came to try and save my life.  She does not understand your ways.  She is a kind and decent woman, who holds no hatred for anyone, which is reason enough to spare her life.  Please, Uncle, spare her so that can may return to her son and teach him to be as kind and honorable as she is."

Bloody Knife considered the words for a moment, and then nodded.

Vin's gaze shifted to JD and he continued.  "JD's no more than a boy, but he has proven himself both brave and loyal.  He will be a man worthy of your respect, if you allow him to live and learn."

JD blushed furiously when Bloody Knife glanced and him, taking stock of what he saw, and then nodded.

Vin pointed to Nathan, saying, "Nathan is a healer, and a good man.  He was once a slave, but he never let the hatred that can poison a man who's been treated as less than human touch his heart.  He doesn't look to see what color a man is before he cares for him.  He heals all who ask for his help."

Nathan met Vin's gaze and nodded his thanks.  Bloody Knife nodded as well.

The world spun slightly and Vin took a deep breath before he looked to Josiah.  "J'siah is a man of God, but not the God of the missionaries who come to strip you of your ancestors and your ways.  J'siah is a wise teacher.  He has learned of many gods, and many paths to reach them, and he walks his own spiritual road with purpose, a companion to any who befriends him."

Josiah grinned slightly and dipped his head to Vin in silent thanks.  Bloody Knife weighed the words and nodded again.

Vin's gaze shifted to Ezra.  "Ezra is still fighting the demons in his heart.  He sometimes has trouble seeing the goodness in himself, but he is learning, even if the lessons are sometimes painful.  Allow him to live, Uncle, so he might finish his journey and come to see himself for what he truly is – a brave and honorable man.  A good friend to us all."

Ezra's eyes rounded with surprise as Ko-Je translated Vin's words.  He felt his cheeks turn red and tried to keep his poker face in place, but couldn't.  Was that truly how Vin saw him?  If so, then Ezra knew the tracker had more faith in him than he did in himself.  And, for the first time in his life, Ezra wanted to live up to someone else's expectations.

Bloody Knife's eyes crinkled when he saw the man's face turn red, and knew Long Eyes had seen into the man's true heart and read it wisely.  He nodded.

Vin's gaze shifted to Buck, who shifted nervously from foot to foot.  "Buck is a special kind of man.  He loves women, and because he does, he sees them in a special way.  He protects them – young or old, beautiful or plain.  Buck sees the beauty that lives in every woman's heart, and nothing gives him more pleasure than to see that beauty set free.  His heart is kind, his spirit loyal.  Spare him for all the women who will keen and wail should he die here."

The ladies' man blushed a deep red and tried not to smile.  It wasn't what he'd expected to hear, but it was all true, and he was glad that someone besides Chris knew the truth that drove him into so many women's arms.

Bloody Knife regarded Buck for a moment, and then looked to the women, who stood together to one side.  The oldest nodded her approval, and Bloody Knife nodded as well.  Then he said, "You do not need to speak for my brother, Long Eyes.  I know he is an honorable man.  My pride blinded me, and I can only hope that he will forgive me that insult."

Ko-Je nodded and offered his brother a small smile, as well as his hand.  The two men embraced briefly, then stepped apart again, all insults forgiven, on both sides.

"The soldier, what will we do to with him?" Bloody Knife asked Vin.

Tanner thought for a moment.  "You should spare the man's life, on one condition – that the Sergeant returns to his unit and tell the Major the renegades have fooled them yet again.  That they have escaped into Mexico.  The threat is gone, and he still doesn't know who was helping them.  It was probably just La Croix, trying to make as much money for himself as he could."

Evans shot Vin a burning glare, but he held his tongue, knowing he could end up at the end of a rope if the Major found out he was in cahoots with La Croix.  And there were eight white witnesses who could tell him, if he didn't do what the breed wanted him to do.

"I will spare his life if he agrees to do this," Bloody Knife said.

"Well?" Chris said, giving the man a shake when he didn't reply to Ko-Je's translation.

"All right, damn it.  I'll do what he said," the soldier snarled.

Bloody Knife nodded and looked to Larabee.  "And this one?" he asked the tracker.

Vin thought for a moment and then sighed and said, "I give you no other reason than that I would endure your torture again, and again after that, to spare his life."

Bloody Knife looked from Chris to Vin and back again.  "Such a bond is rare and worthy of respect for its own sake.  He may live."  Chris met and held Vin's gaze as the old chief added, "You will always be welcome among us, Long Eyes."

"Thank you," Vin replied.  "It is an honor to be respected by those whom you respect."

Bloody Knife nodded, then grinned and added, "Even if you do not tremble with fear."

Vin inclined his head slightly and grinned back, saying in English, "Guess 'm jus' a stupid white man sometimes."

Bloody Knife threw back his head and laughed, the other Indians joining in while the rest of the Seven and Mary looked slightly offended.

Vin horse was led over and he rolled into the saddle, waiting while the others mounted as well.  "Hurry," Tanner told Bloody Knife.  "We'll make sure the Army don't find y' fer at least a few hours."

The old man nodded, and then turned to his brother saying, "My mistake is unforgivable."

Ko-Je shook his head.  "Things have changed.  We are not the same as we once were, but we are still brothers."

Bloody Knife nodded.  "Come with us."

"I cannot.  My people have made peace with the whites.  We will live here, with our friends."

Bloody Knife glanced at the seven men and the beautiful blonde woman and nodded again.  "With friends such as those, your decision is a wise one.  Safe journey."

As the Seven rode out of the encampment, along with Mary, Ko-Je and the sergeant, they passed men and women, all of whom chanted a war song for the white man known as Long Eyes.  Vin sat straight in his saddle, grateful his friends couldn't understand a word of it, and wishing the desert would stop spinning past his eyes.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Once into the desert, Chris pulled up, saying, "Buck, take Josiah, Ezra and JD with you and get the sergeant back to McNabb.  See to it he lives up to his end of the bargain."

Buck nodded, taking the reins to the soldier's horse from Chris.

Vin started to follow them, but Chris reached out and stopped him with a hand on his arm, saying, "Not you.  Nathan and me are taking you back to town so he can get a look at you."

"'m fine," Tanner slurred as he blinked owlishly.

Nathan edged his horse up alongside the tracker's and handed him an open canteen.  "Here, drink some water, Vin," he said, frowning worriedly.

The blue eyes shifted to the healer, and he blinked, trying to force the man's face into focus.  Then his eyes rolled back into head and Vin slipped bonelessly off his horse, landing hard on the ground.

"Vin?" Mary gasped, watching as both Nathan and Chris rushed to the fallen man's side.

"Vin?" Chris called, scooping the smaller man up and cradling him in his arms.  "Vin, y' all right?"

Nathan reached out, checking Vin's pale cheek, which felt cold and clammy to his touch, although sweat glistened on his skin as well.  "We need t' get him into some shade," he told the gunman.

"The creek's not far," Chris suggested.  "Plenty of water to cool him down with."

Nathan nodded and together they lifted Vin and got him onto Chris's horse.  The gunslinger swung up behind Tanner, gently holding onto the tracker, whose head lolled against his shoulder as they headed for the creek and the shade offered by the palo verde, cottonwood and mesquite that grew scattered along the sandy banks.

As soon as they found a spot close to both water and shade, Nathan took the unconscious man from Larabee and carried him to the shadows, laying him down on the cool ground.  With practiced efficiency, Vin's coat and shirt were quickly removed.

Nathan then soaked the tracker's shirt in the creek and wrung the cloth out.  He laid it over Vin's chest and sat back to see if that helped bring the man around.

"Here, let me help," Mary said, taking a seat on the ground between Tanner and the creek.  She leaned over to wet the scarf she'd been wearing and used it to bath the tracker's sunburned face.

After a few minutes, Vin moaned and opened his eyes.

"Hello," Mary greeted him, her voice bringing Nathan and Chris to stare over her shoulders.

Vin looked up at the three worried expressions dancing in front of his eyes and frowned.  "What's wrong?" he asked, his voice dry and raspy.  "What happened?"

"Lack 'a water and too much work out in that desert done took their toll," Nathan told him.  "Think y' can take some water?"

Vin nodded, more thirsty than he could remember being in a long, long time.  He slowly sat up, his muscles protesting the movement and sending spasms of liquid fire racing along his arms, shoulders and back.  His damp shirt fell into his lap and Mary glanced away from his naked chest, her cheeks flushing as the sight reminded her of what the rest of him looked like.

Vin saw her blush and quickly pulled his shirt on, buttoning it.  The damp coolness felt wonderful against his skin.

Nathan handed him a canteen, warning, "Take small sips or it'll come right back up."

The tracker did as instructed, the fresh, cool water tasting better than any of Ezra's fancy, imported liquors.  His eyes closed and he moaned softly.

"Vin?" Chris asked, sounding worried.

The tracker's eyes opened and he looked up at Larabee, grinning.  "'m fine, Cowboy.  Jus' water ain't never tasted this good b'for."

Nathan grinned as well.  "I ain't surprised.  How's your stomach feelin'?"

"Fine," Vin replied, taking several more sips, and savoring each one.

"Headache?"

"Little," Vin admitted.

"Legs or belly crampin' up any?"

Vin shook his head.  "Just got a twitch that's hangin' on."

The healer nodded.  It wasn't as bad as he'd expected.  "Y' just find a place t' lean back and rest fo' a bit.  I want y' to drink as much of that water as y' can.  Just take it nice and slow."

Vin nodded, unable to protest the way he usually would with Mary sitting there, looking worried and motherly.

Mary dipped her scarf into the creek again, wrung it out and handed it to Vin, saying, "Tie this around your neck, it'll make you feel cooler."

He took the cloth from her and did as she'd asked.  "Thank y', Mary," he said, a blush coloring his cheeks.

"You're very welcome," she said, standing.  "I'll go see if I can help Nathan."

When she stepped away, Chris took her place.  He reached out, giving Vin's leg a gentle squeeze.  "You feelin' better?"

Vin nodded.  "Ready t' ride."

"You just stay right there and finish off that water like Nathan told you," Chris said.  "You look like hell, pard."

Vin grinned.  "Reckon I might, but 'm a fair piece from dead."

Chris shot him an annoyed glare, but he just didn't have the heart to put any force behind it.  "Looks like they tried their best."

Vin shook his head.  "If they'd wanted us dead, we'd be dead."

"At least it's over," Chris said, absently rubbing the tracker's leg when he felt the muscles begin twitching under his hand.

"Hope they make it home," Vin said softly, a faraway look in his blue eyes.

Chris hesitated for a moment, and then asked, "You miss it?  Living with 'em?"

"Sometimes," Vin replied softly, nodding.  Then he looked at Larabee and smiled.  "Helluva lot easier 'n livin' with a bunch 'a mule-headed, deaf, sons-a-bitches who can't seem t' understand a word I say."

Larabee grinned.  "What's that?"

"Y' heard me jus' fine, Larabee," Vin growled.

"What?"

Vin rolled his eyes and shook his head.  Damn, sometimes having family was a real pain in the ass, but he wouldn't trade any of them, for anything, especially the infuriating blond grinning at him.


End file.
